


Family Emergency

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-26
Updated: 2009-01-26
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brooks hadn't really thought out what it would be like to share Mike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of our OT3 Verse, cause after all of the crap we put Boyd through we just wanted him to be happy. Also, this is 3500 words (the longest I have written in forever) and the last of my January requests! GO ME. ;) 
> 
> PS. More people should write this OT3. Even if Boyo went to AZ.

When it had first started, truth be told, Brooks hadn’t really thought it through. He had been in LA for a grand total of four months before he realized how miserable he was with out Mike, and another four before he realized he needed to go back to him. By the time he had actually worked everything out Mike was with Boyd, full and completely and when Brooks had resigned himself to losing the most important thing in his life Mike’s offer had been a hand up and out of the hard spot. He hadn’t thought what it would be like to live in a place with Mike AND with Boyd. Hadn’t thought about what it would be like to have to _share_ Mike.

Which is what it was. Or what it felt like at least.

Mike didn’t want it to be that way, used phrases like “in this together” and “family” where Brooks saw it as more or less a means to an end. Boyd seemed content just to be there and made an effort to be involved with Brooks but backed away when Brooks didn’t show interest. Everything was in threes, but it wasn’t the triangle that Mike thought it would be. It was a line, BrooksandMike and MikeandBoyd, Brooks and Boyd never met up.

*

Brooks woke up and for just a half a second reached out to find Mike before his brain snapped back into place. Mike wasn't here, he was in Florida, and he wasn't coming back for at least four days. (At least was the part that got him, he hated not knowing when he was coming back.) The bed was big and open and the white sheets tangled in his legs and he pushed them off as he got out of it.

When he steps into the living room with half formed thoughts of finding food, instead he found Boyd. It had been just over six months since they had moved in and yet he wasn't sure if he was ever going to get used to the sight of Boyd sprawled out on his… well.. Their couch. Nothing but a pair of sweats and a bowl of cereal, Boyd looked comfortable enough but still something just screamed _off_ to Brooks.

"Morning," Boyd didn't look away from Sports Center.

Brooks gave a half grunt in response and walked to the kitchen. The coffee pot was half full, which was a definite perk of having someone else in the house and he poured himself a glass before he returned to lie on the love seat. If Mike had been there they would be at the table, or more likely still in bed. Brooks swallowed around that thought and instead focused on the recount of a game he didn't care about.

Four days.

*

Mike sent him text messages through out the day, and most of the time Brooks wouldn't even respond. He didn't have time, in general, to drop his gear and pick up his phone and had long since learned that the second he broke concentration his students would to. And once their concentration was broken he was pretty much shit out of luck to get it back. So when he heard Mike's ringtone (which was the thankfully muffled sound of Mike's voice screaming, "PICK UP YOUR FREAKING PHONE, BROOKS") coming from off sides he gets a weird lump in his throat.

He makes the assistant couch start some drills while he hops off the ice and picks up his bag. The phone had beeped over to answering machine, but before he had a chance to see if there was a message it started to buzz again. He clicked send before Mike's voice started to tell him to do it.

"What's wrong?"

Mike's pause made his throat even drier. "Brooks? Thank Gd, man, its Boyd."

And he hadn't really known what he was expecting or even if he was relieved that Mike was fine but he found the lump in his throat wasn't gone. He repeated himself, "What's wrong?"

"He was in a car accident," Something in the background was distracting Mike, his voice was oddly detached for the news he was giving. "He is okay, but… but. He is alone. At the hospital? I can't get there for something like 8 hours and I need you to get there."

Brooks felt the bench below him before he felt his knees buckle. He looked down at his skates and instantly started to fumble with the laces. Figured it would be the day that he was teaching proper retention of laces and had put them on too fucking tight as a show off. His fingers fumbled and his phone slipped on his shoulder. When he put it back up to his ear Mike was in the middle of a sentence.

"… on 8th street. He is in the ER."

He stupidly realized he had nodded just as he heard the distinct silence that signaled Mike had hung on him. His skates were almost off, thankfully, and he looked up in time to catch his Assistant Coach giving him a weird look.

"I have to go, family emergency."

*

After lying bold face to the nurse and saying he was Boyd’s _husband_ (which would get him an infinite amount of shit from both Boyd and Mike but was worth it because she wouldn’t tell him anything) he gets lead back to the small solo room to find Boyd with his eyes closed and the steady bleep of heart monitor. For a split second he fought the urge to cut and run, his heart suddenly dislodging from its place in his throat and finding its way to his stomach. Boyd had a huge white bandage on his forehead and an almost comically large cast on his left arm, but looked somehow peaceful in his bed. (Which made the hear monitor comforting and overall more unnerving at the same time.)

“What choo staring at?” Boyd’s voice was half slurred and Brooks’ eyes snapped to his now almost-awake face.

Brooks walked over to the chair by the bed and flopped down in a forced sense of casual. “An idiot.”

Boyd grimaced as he rolled his eyes and Brooks bit back a feeling of guilt, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“I’ll bet,” Brooks leaned a little forward ostensibly to get a better look. “At least it looks like you put up a fight.”

Boyd’s lip twitch to a smile but a nurse entered before it could go somewhere.

“Mr. Gordon,” she smiled happily. “I see your husband found you.”

Brooks felt his eyes bulged and he put his hand up to cover them and possibly the flush of red on the tops of his cheeks. It was almost worst when Boyd gave a simple slurred, “It is definitely a comfort.”

He had busted out the accent, which Brooks didn’t know if he could attribute to the possible concussion, the drugs they had no doubt pumped him up with, or the fact that he was a shameless flirt who used it to his advantage. By the time that he had relaxed enough to drop his hand and catch the shit-eating grin on his face Brooks was mentally calculating how far he could run and how hard it was to start life over in a city far away. The nurse was happily oblivious, fluffing his pillow and checking his stats.

Blessedly, from his pocket his phone started to buzz. He lifted his eyebrow at Boyd with the hopes of conveying the plea, ‘Let’s never talk about this again’ and walked out of the room quickly. He didn’t have to check to see who it was and he exhaled as he connected the line.

“He is fine,” Brooks started.

Mike sounded relieved but frustrated, “Good, that’s-- good to hear.”

“When are you getting in?” he asked, as he rubbed at his eyes. He felt guilty at the fact that his chest was releasing with the idea of Mike being HOME but he didn’t let himself think about it too much.

“I can’t get a flight until tomorrow,” Mike practically growled. “There are storms over the Midwest and I can’t even get a transfer through anywhere. “

Brooks groaned and flexed his jaw. “What time?”

“Six?” Mike sounded strained. “Is he staying over at the hospital?”

He hadn’t asked, but turned back towards the room to see the nurse standing with another woman in a long white coat. “I think the Doctor is in the room, I’ll call you back.”

He snapped shut the phone and headed back in to find the woman giving him a perfunctory smile. “Mr. Laich, I have some good news.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Your husband is going to be fine,” the doctor looked down at her chart just long enough to miss his wince at the call back. By the time she looked up he had morphed his face into more of a look of concern. “The good news is he didn’t suffer a concussion, even though that bump is going to leave a nice welt underneath. His wrist, however, is going to need some TLC.”

“… I have broken my wrist before,” Boyd pointed out. And maybe Brooks forgot it for a second, the fact that for a decade their job was to get beaten against walls and hit by rather large sticks or even worse by stupid players who didn’t know when to leave well enough alone. It was hard for him to reconcile the tired bandaged up man in the bed and the padded out pro on the ice.

The doctor gave him a patronizingly sweet smile as she put a needle into his IV and went on like he hadn’t said a word. “Also his right ankle appears also to be twisted, but it is only a strain. As long as he keep himself off of it and you as his husband,” the doctor gave a pointed winked at Brooks, which made his stomach crawl “take good care of him he could be all healed up with in the next few days.”

Boyd’s lip curled slightly and he leveled Brooks with a long stare before he asked, “You think you are up for it, _baby_.”

“When can we get out of here?” Brooks asked the nurse, who handed him a half a dozen papers and two prescriptions. One for regular painkillers and one for Tylenol 3 to give him when the pain lowered a little, but by the way Boyd was wincing at getting out of bed he could probably pocket the second one for later.

Hospital mandated that Boyd be brought out in a wheel chair, even though he fought it with half hearted reminders of past injuries. By the time they got to Brooks’ truck Boyd seemed to have given up all fight, prompting Brooks to wonder what was in that needle in the first place.

For the first time in a while he regretted getting a truck, as he couldn’t even offer Boyd a back seat to rest in. Instead he pushed the seat as far back as he could and helped him put his foot on his dash. (Which he would never ever let anyone do in any other circumstances, he loved his car.)

They drove home in silence, and Brooks was relieved to see the slack line of Boyd’s shoulders indicating he was asleep. He ran to the grocery store and the pharmacy, and went home.

*

He had thought about throwing Boyd over his shoulder in a dead man’s carry but as soon as the door had opened Boyd made some groan and Brooks had to help him to his feet and let him put his arm around his shoulder to give him support. Somewhere in the garage were crutches from the last time one of them had taken a fall but he could find those later. He aimed them towards the living room and rigged it so that his left wrist and his right ankle were both elevated.

Boyd switched the TV back on to Sports Center and Brooks stood a few feet back for ten minutes. He wasn’t sure as to what exactly he was supposed to do. He hadn’t really had to do much in the way of care giving, as that was something both Boyd and Mike were comfortable with. Finally, Boyd shifted and let out a small moan and something clicked in his brain.

With large strides he made it to the kitchen and poured a large glass of OJ before pouring it out and instead getting the milk. (It was better for his bones, he reasoned.) He checked the side of the pill container and grabbed some bread. When he handed it to Boyd he got a quirked eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

Brooks rubbed the back of his neck and sat on the couch beside him. When this just makes Boyd’s eyebrow quick more he thought about moving to the safety of the loveseat but instead he stays. “You need food in your stomach with these pills, now just take it Boy-o.”

Boyd balled the bread into two even sized circles and popped them into his mouth in one bite and quickly swallowed the pills with half the glass of milk. “When I was a kid my mom used to hide the pills in the center of bread.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brooks couldn’t help but smile. “Have trouble swallowing?”

Boyd practically beamed with a silly smile, “Not anymore.”

Brooks felt the flush burn across his cheeks instantly. “I know that.”

The room goes silent except for the faint ramble of two sports anchors, and Brooks is thankful he is beside him because it took away the awkward urge to look at him. Instead he stared ahead and only occasionally flicked his eyes to catch the outline of Boyd’s profile. After a few minutes, and an empty milk glass, Boyd leaned back against the couch and hummed.

“Wow, s’they gave me the good stuff, Brooksie,” his head lulled a little and with little movement he tilted his head to rest sideways on Brooks’ lap. Brooks flinched at the sudden contact but then relaxed when he felt Boyd’s breathing even out.

A moment or two passed, and Brooks thought that Boyd was asleep but then he heard the faint mumble. “Mikey makes decent soup, but this is good too.”

He shifted again, moving to lay with his face up and his body mostly on the couch. Brooks gives a wary glance to Boyd’s cast and slowly puts his hand under it to lift it up and put the discarded pillow underneath it. He spared a thought of moving himself but suddenly found that the idea of just putting his own head back sounded like a great idea.

*

Brooks woke up with a start when his pocket started to vibrate. He shifted with hesitation, but Boyd barely showed any sign of movement. The screen blinked Mike giving him his best “Blue Steel” and he opened it up with a distant smile.

“Hey,” he whispered.

There was a lot of background noise again, and Brooks pictured Mike in the middle of the airport, harried and annoyed. “Hey. How is it going?”

“Good,” Brooks stretched his neck out and blinked to adjust to the lack of light in the room. “Where are you? What time is it?”

“I’m still in Florida, but I got a flight out in about three hours. It’s almost midnight. How’s Boyd?”

Brooks looked down. “Drooling. They must have really given him the good stuff.”

“Good,” Mike released a sigh.

A thought struck him and Brooks rubbed his eyes as he asked, “Which soup do you make?”

“Soup?”

Brooks nodded, even if Mike couldn’t see it. “Boyd said you made soup?”

Mike laughed and Brooks had to take the phone away from his ear. “Wild mushroom, from Campbell’s.”

“Do we have any in the cupboards?” Brooks thought aloud, thankful that it was at least something he wouldn’t be able to burn. Well, at least not easily.

“In the drawer by the stove,” Mike answered, distracted. “Look, I have to go, they might get me on stand by. See you later?”

The thought of him being home was enough to make Brooks let go of a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “Yea, yea.”

“Love you,” Mike said, but before Brooks had the chance to respond, the phone clicked off. Which was probably just as well, as he couldn’t bring himself to say it over the phone most times.

He lifted Boyd’s head carefully and put a pillow where his lap had been. Proving that they really must have given him something good, Boyd didn’t even flinch at the movement, which was a relief to Brooks. He looked at his watch and considered when he gave him the last dose of painkiller, figured he had time and went into the kitchen.

Within a few minutes he came back into the room with a bowl of soup, a new thing of painkillers and some whole grain bread (they both fought him on it, but he slipped in the healthy whenever he could). Boyd’s eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling with a half glazed expression.

“Been up long?” Brooks asked as he placed the bowl of soup and the painkillers on the coffee table.

Boyd turned with wide eyes to Brooks. “I thought you had moved to bed.”

Brooks shook his head and pointed towards the bowl as he sat down next to him. “You shouldn’t take your meds on an empty stomach.”

“You made the soup,” his lips twitched into a smile, his eyes just a bit unfocused. Something was niggling at the back of Brooks’ mind, the look on Boyd’s face sending up weird flags but Brooks wasn’t going to say anything if he couldn’t place his finger on it. Boyd shifted into a seated position with a grimace and Brooks put his hand under the wrapped leg and placed it onto a pillow on the coffee table.

“You might want to give it a minute to cool down,” he advised. “Try the bread.”

Boyd didn’t even make his usual stock comment about the whole grain, just rolled the bread into a tight ball and tossed it into his mouth. After he swallowed with a swig from the milk that Brooks had brought out he turned towards but didn’t look Brooks in the eye. “Thanks.”

“It was just heating up some soup, you made me think Mikey was hiding his chef skills from me.”

Boyd tested the soup, awkwardly working with his injured hand. Hissing when the spoon went into his mouth he placed the bowl back down. “I meant, um… Thanks for everything. I know I’m not your favorite person, but you really stepped up today when you didn’t have to.”

Brooks blinked at his hands. He swallowed around his suddenly dry mouth and then sighed. “I didn’t have to, I wanted to.”

It was the truth, but he hadn’t planned on saying that out loud. They were both oddly still and Boyd seemed like he cautiously weighed each word before he said them. “You -- **wanted** to?”

“Yea,” Brooks turned slightly and caught Boyd staring at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t even have to think about it, as soon as Mikey called. I told them…” he hesitated.

“You told them what?”

Brooks turned away, not sure he could just say it to his face. “I said it was a family emergency.”

“You said that?” he could hear the smile in Boyd’s voice.

Brooks looked back at him and saw the pull at the side of his lips, “Well it was.”

Boyd leaned forward to close the gap in between them, pushing his lips against Brooks in a sloppy and awkward kiss. It wasn’t their first, Brooks consciously knew that, but it felt like it was. Brand new and weird, but right and familiar at the same time. Boyd flicked his tongue out to push at Brooks’ lip and Brooks did the same. The angle wasn’t quite the optimum, and Brooks kind of felt like he was in high school all over again. His hand brushed against his inner thigh and Boyd moaned.

When he tried to shift them to get more comfortable Boyd let out a groan and pulled back with a flinch. Brooks’ face flushed with the sudden reminder of Boyd’s injuries.

“You should take the pain killers,” he remarked with a hitch in his voice, his forehead leaned against Boyd’s.

Boyd pulled back a little more and sat back up, grabbing the two pills and swallowing them without milk. He leaned back in to give Brooks a kiss but Brooks thought better of it.

“We should continue this when you are a little more up to it,” Brooks nodded and Boyd looked let down. “We have time, you know.”

Boyd smiled again, “Time eh?”

“Yea, time,” Brooks grinned back at him.

*

Brooks helped Boyd lumber into his bed, curled up next to him before he thought better of it and fell asleep with his head on Boyd’s uninjured shoulder. When Brooks woke the next morning he found Mike in the doorway, leaned against the jam with his bag over his shoulder and a smile breaking his face in two.

“Hey,” Mike said just above a whisper. “Comfy?”

Brooks lifted his head and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. “Hey.”

Mike let his bag onto the ground with a thud and slipped onto the opposite side of Boyd. He looked over the sleeping form and slipped his hand onto Brooks. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too.”

They shifted slightly towards each other, sprawled over Boyd’s oblivious sleeping self. Brooks smiled as he closed his eyes, and for the first time in six months he let himself believe that everything was going to be fine, and for the first time ever he felt like he truly belonged.

Just before he fell back to sleep he heard Mike’s self satisfied voice, “Took you long enough.”


End file.
